Secret Past Revamped
by Serendipulous
Summary: Ever wonder why Olivia's so quiet? When a figure from her past returns, she can't stay quiet for long. Rated M for violence and language in later chapters. (Rewriting this story, original is still up on my profile)
1. Chapter 1

**Back in August, I asked y'all if I should rewrite this story and some of you said yes! This is coming much later than I anticipated, but that's life, isn't it? I am changing some details from the original story to something that makes more sense to me now, but I am going to leave the original up on my profile so you can always go check that out (if you want spoilers, I suppose). So without further ado, here's the revamped Secret Past!**

 **I do not own Lemonade Mouth.**

 **OLIVIA.**

The rain fell gently against the window beside my bed, and subconsciously, I matched the beat of the rainfall with the tapping of my pencil against the small notebook resting in my lap. It was a dull October afternoon and I was doing what one does best on a rainy day – staying in bed, letting my mind wander with lyrics and ideas. I've been writing songs for as long as I can remember, but nothing seriously until my mom passed away. I was in the 6th grade when she was diagnosed with breast cancer, and in less than a year she was gone. Writing songs became my escape from the reality of living without a mother, and living with a father who became increasingly dependent on drugs to cope with the loss of his wife. His dependency became so bad that by the time I was a freshman, he had been busted on felony drug charges and sentenced to 10 years in prison. As if high school wasn't about to be hard enough, now I had to tackle it without my only surviving parent. I thank God every day for my Grams. She took me in as soon as Dad started falling of the wagon and never looked back.

I stared down at the paper in my lap, a jumbled mess of words scribbled across its' lines. With a frustrated sigh, I tore the paper out of the notebook, crumpled it into a ball and tossed it in the direction of the small trashcan next to my door. Unfortunately for me, my aim is less than decent, and I missed the trashcan by several inches. I stared at the paper on the floor for a moment, internally debating on leaving it on the floor, but my overwhelming need for a clean space took over and I rose from my bed to throw away the paper. I knelt down to grab the paper and heard the floor creak near my door. My body tensed and my breath caught in my throat. Grams wasn't home right now, and wasn't supposed to be home for a few more hours – she was out to lunch and a movie with a friend. It's a creaky house, yes, but I know every creak in this house and the different sounds it makes when it's just settling versus when someone's weight causes a shift in the floor. I quickly jerked my head up to see what caused the creak, heart pounding in my chest.

A familiar carrot top with a goofy smile met my eyes and I let out the breath I had been holding in. "Jesus, Wen! You can't just sneak up on a girl like that!" Grabbing the crumbled paper, I stood up and tossed it in the trashcan, folding my arms across my chest. "What are you doing here? How did you even get in?"

Wen took a step inside my room, "Well, for starters, I texted you at least 17 times about me coming over. Stella suggested we work on the music for the new song you wrote. And you were the one who told me about the key in the plant next to the front door." He brushed past me and sat on the edge of my bed, shrugging as he mentioned the key. I completely forgot that I had told him where we hid the spare key.

"Right," I started, turning my body towards him, rubbing my hand over my face, remembering back to earlier in the week making plans with Wen to work on new music today. "I'm sorry, Wen. I completely forgot about today and I've just been so spaced out to even think of checking my phone." I gestured to my IPhone still resting on my nightstand, plugged into its charger.

Wen chuckled lightly, "It's all good, Liv. Sorry I scared you so bad." He took in the surroundings of my room before taking notice of the notebook still resting on my bed next to where he sat. "Are these your songs?" He asked, excitedly grabbing the book and flipping to the front of the book, eyes beginning to scan over the words written. I sprang forward, grabbing the book out of his hands and closing it.

"Yes, it's my song book. And it's still private." I huffed, sitting next to him, clutching the book to my chest.

"Olivia, you are so talented, why can't I see what you've written? Maybe we can use them for the band! I am here to work on new music with you after all, right?" I turned to him, his green eyes sparkled with hope, a smile tugged on the corner of his mouth and I couldn't help but get lost in counting the freckles that dusted his cheeks.

"What? Don't tell me there's something in my nose." Wen brought his hand up to cover his nose, snapping me out of staring at him. I jumped up in embarrassment, taking a few steps away from him, putting my book on the bookshelf across from my bed.

"No! Wen, you're fine," I laughed nervously, "I just… uh… got lost thinking, is all." I leaned against the bookshelf, bringing my hand up to play with my hair.

"Thoughts about what?" Wen leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, a smirk on his lips, enticing me to share. My head spun trying to come up with an excuse instead of telling him the truth – which was that I was completely and utterly attracted to him.

I opened my mouth to speak but was interrupted by the ringing of my phone. _Saved by the phone. God bless._ I made my way over to my phone, watching "Gram" light up on the screen. Picking up my phone, I looked at Wen. "It's my Grandma. Give me one sec." He nodded and I answered the call, bringing the phone up to my ear. "Hi Gram! Everything okay?"

My Gram's small voice came from the other end of the phone "Yes, sweetheart, everything is okay. But I just received a call from Eric." My heart leapt in my chest and I walked out of my room. Eric was a friend of my Mom's – he was a lawyer. Wen and the band knew that my father was in prison, but I still wasn't comfortable with Wen hearing this conversation.

"Is everything okay with Dad?" I asked, trying to keep my voice calm.

"The call wasn't about your father, Olivia…" her voice trailed off and my eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Well if it wasn't about dad, then who was it –"I stopped mid-sentence, realization washing over me. "It wasn't about…" Dread filled my gut, the sudden urge to vomit gagging me.

"I am so sorry, Olivia. They released him a week ago. Eric just found out and immediately called me to tell you." Her voice was weak, defeated. "I'm on my way home, honey."

"There's nothing you can do for me here, Gram. Please just enjoy your afternoon. Wen is here – I'll be fine." I managed to choke out, surprised at myself that I could even form words.

"Okay, Livvy. I'll be home in a few hours. Lock the doors, and I love you."

"I will. I love you too Gram." Tears welled in my eyes as I ended the call and let the phone slip from my fingers and fall to the floor, landing on the wood with a thud. My throat ached and my stomach was in knots, but my feet would not will me to move. My legs would not allow me to collapse. All I could do was stand with tears spilling down my cheeks, back against the wall, hands by my sides. Wen rushed out of my room and then was standing in front of me, eyes wide.

"Olivia, what happened? I heard you drop your phone…" He knelt down, picking up my phone, examining it for any cracks. "Thankfully you didn't break it." His eyes met my blank ones and he cocked his head in concern. "Olivia? What's going on? What did your grandma say?" I was looking at his eyes but not really seeing them. Seconds ticked by that felt like minutes and Wen put his hand on my arm, snapping me back into reality. I blinked hard, looking back into his eyes and finally feeling my legs give out on me. I let myself slide down the wall I was leaning on, my arms wrapping around myself in a cocoon. Wen followed me down, sitting across from me, eyes still wide and full of concern. He reached for my arms but stopped himself short, scanning my face.

My breathing was rapid and I felt like I was going to hyperventilate but I couldn't care. I hugged my arms tighter around myself and let sobs slip past my lips, eyes darting around the room. My stomach was doing flips and I could taste the bile rising in the back of my throat. I shut my eyes tightly, shaking my head no, more tears running down my face. I felt a presence next to me and then an arm around me, suddenly I was pulled against Wen's warm frame. I wanted to resist, I didn't want to be touched right now. But I didn't have the strength to push against him. Maybe I needed this. Maybe I needed to be held and be safe in someone else's arms for once instead of my own. I unfolded my arms from around myself and allowed my body to lean into Wen's embrace. His arm around my shoulders pulled tighter, my head falling to his shoulder. He leaned his head against mine.

"We can sit here in silence if you want… but, Olivia, you're starting to scare me." Wen mumbled against my hair, running his hand up and down my arm. I took as deep of a breath as I could muster and nodded once, sitting up. Wen's arm fell from my shoulders as I moved, but he immediately grabbed my hand and rotated his body so he was facing me directly again. I looked down at his hand holding mine and felt an ounce safer than I did a few minutes ago. I didn't want to tell Wen, but I knew I needed someone right now. And even though what I was about to tell him was something that barely anyone else knows, I trusted Wen. I trusted him not to think of me differently, and not to leave because of this. I used the back of my hand to brush away the drying tears on my cheeks and swallowed hard. Still unable to meet his eyes, I opened my mouth to speak.

"My grandma called me to tell me that," I sighed. "I don't even know how to say this." I hung my head, hating this feeling of overwhelming hopelessness and defeat. "A few years ago, there was this guy. And some stuff happened and he went to jail and he was supposed to be away for a long time but he's not anymore… he's out." I looked up to Wen's confused face.

"That's… vague." He remarked, reaching over to grab my other hand. "Olivia, why was he in jail? Who is this guy?" He was so calm, so warm, and so safe. I felt myself drawn to him and before I could even stop myself, the words were tumbling from my lips.

"His name is Thomas. We met the summer before freshman year and I really liked him. I thought he liked me too. It was great at first, so we spent a few months together and then things weren't so great anymore. He would get really angry with me and yell and throw things and make these threats that I didn't know were threats at the time. I wanted to leave him, but I was afraid of what he would do. He always wanted to be… physical with me and I didn't want that. One day he took it too far and I told him no and he really didn't like being told no. So, he hit me." I stopped, taking another deep breath and searching for the words I wanted to say. Wen's thumb ran over the back of my hands, keeping me grounded. "And when he hit me, I told him that we were done. That I wanted nothing to do with him anymore. And that's what made him snap. He threw me around like I was nothing. He hit me and he kicked me and he screamed at me…" I closed my eyes tightly. "He took what he wanted in the first place. He held me down and covered my mouth and _took_ a piece of me. I stopped fighting him and prayed it would end and that would be the end of it. But I was wrong. He told me that if I told anyone what happened, that he would kill me. And to drive his threat home, he gave me a scar as a promise of that." I opened my eyes, staring down at my clenched fists in Wen's hands, refusing to meet his eyes. "And I told. I was so scared that he would really hurt me or someone else but I knew I needed to tell. So I did. And he went to jail. He was supposed to serve 5 years for what he did to me, but he's out after 3. And that's what my Grandma called to tell me." My voice trailed off, meek and scared. Wen's hands slipped out of mine and I instantly regretted telling him anything. How could I be so dumb to think telling him wouldn't change anything? I felt so small in an instant. I lifted my eyes to meet his and immediately looked away seeing the hurt on his face. I wrapped my arms around myself again and felt the tears burning my eyes.

Then Wen cleared his throat, his voice still coming out broken. "Come here."

I looked up at him again, and he had his arms open. Hesitantly, I leaned forward and instantly Wen was meeting me halfway, kneeling to envelop me in a bone crushing hug. I wrapped my arms around him, letting myself cry again. His face was in my hair, and I could almost feel him scrunch his face. "I'm so sorry, Olivia." He kept repeating it quietly for a few moments as we sat in this embrace. I held him like he was the only thing keeping me here on the ground. He held me just as tightly. Finally, Wen pulled back slightly, moving his hands from my shoulders to either side of my face. His eyes were red, and his jaw was clenched. "Nothing is going to happen to you as long as I'm here. No one can hurt you again, okay?" His eyes darted between mine in desperation. I nodded and swallowed the burning in my throat from crying. My nod seemed to be enough for him as he crushed my body against his again, one hand tangled in my hair holding my head to his chest, the other around my shoulders.

And there we sat for what felt like hours.

In reality, it was only a few minutes until a series of vibrations between us made us pull apart. Wen sheepishly reached into the pocket of his hoodie and produced his ringing cellphone. We both looked at the screen - Stella. Wen answered the phone and put it on speaker so we could both hear her on the other end.

"Hey! Did you make it to Olivia's?" She asked quickly, not even waiting for a response on our end. "I'm sure you did - great! Well we're having a band meeting at my place in an hour. Okay? See you then!" And just as quickly as the call had come, the call was ended. Wen and I both stared at the phone for a second and then back to each other. Calls like that from Stella were more frequent than actual conversations with her. Wen cleared his throat and slowly stood up, reaching out his hand to help me up as well. He scratched the back of his neck and I began playing with my hair - neither of us knowing just what to say.

"Wen-"

"Olivia-"

We both started at the same time, laughing slightly before Wen spoke. "Thank you for telling me that. I am so, so sorry you had to go through that and that... that piece of shit is out there in the world." He reached for my hands again. "But I meant what I said. I won't let anything happen to you. He can't touch you again. He can't come near you again. If it means I never leave your side until you feel safe again, so be it." He paused, "God, Liv, I had no idea." He trailed off and I finally spoke up again.

"No one knows, Wen. And you can't tell anyone else." My voice was urgent but firm. Wen nodded in understanding and I trusted that he wouldn't share something that wasn't his to share. "No one really noticed when the loner girl didn't come to school for a month. Or when I would be gone for a week at a time after that." I shrugged. "But, can we not talk about this anymore? I appreciate everything you've said, Wen, I just really can't handle any more right now." I looked down at my feet.

"Absolutely. Tell you what, we have that meeting in an hour. How about I buy you a smoothie and we make our way to Stella's?"

For the first time, I genuinely smiled and nodded. "A smoothie sounds amazing right about now." I laughed a bit, letting go of Wen's hands and wiping my eyes with the back of my hand again. "Let me just go get cleaned up a bit." Wen nodded and I walked down the hallway and into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I turned to face myself in the mirror and shook my head at the reflection back at me. Red, swollen eyes, puffy lips, tear tracks down my cheeks, hair all a mess. I grabbed my hairbrush sitting on my sink and ran it through my tangled hair a few times, smoothing it. I put the brush down and turned on the hot water, waiting a moment before collecting it in my hands and splashing my face with it a few times. I dried my face and hands with a towel, turned the sink off and braced my hands against the sink and faced my reflection again.

"You were strong then and you are strong now. He won't come back. You will be fine. Remember who you are, Olivia. Remember what you're capable of." I spoke to myself clearly, but softly. I didn't want to risk Wen hearing me and thinking that I'm a freak as well as a victim. I sighed at myself, taking one last look in the mirror and stepping out of the bathroom, ready to tackle whatever else the day had to offer me.

 **Not a huge fan of how I ended this, but I really wanted to make sure that I was posting this tonight (it's 1:30AM here in Cleveland lol) Stay tuned for more drama, more angst, more awkward, more romance. Hope you enjoyed! Bad or good, please don't forget to review! Having feedback from y'all really helps me stay motivated to keep wrting. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi all, it's been over a year since I've updated this but what a year it's been. I can't make any promises for how frequently updates will be made to this story anymore because I know I can't keep them. But I got hit with a wave of motivation and creativity the other day and decided *fuck it* thus this chapter was born.**

 **Enjoy.**

 **I do not own Lemonade Mouth.**

"I'll do a medium mango smoothie and a medium strawberry-banana smoothie, please." Wen spoke coolly across the counter to the girl with space buns. She read out the total as he handed her his card and she swiped it, remarking that the smoothies would be out shortly. He made his way over to the high top that I was sitting at, absentmindedly rolling my nails across the wooden tabletop, and hopped up onto the bar stool across from me, reaching out to grab my hand which caused me to jerk my eyes to his.

"Are you sure you wanna go to Stella's? We don't have to go, you know, I can call her and tell her that you weren't feeling well-"

"I'm sure," I cut him off. "I can't stop living my life, Wen. I won't stop living my life just because of this." I softly pulled my hand from his and cracked my knuckles. "If I stop living my life or if I live in fear, he wins. And I'm not about to let that happen." My insides still felt like mush and I prayed that my words were coming out firmer than they sounded in my ears. I meant what I was saying, I just needed to keep saying it to myself until it really sank in.

"Alright." Wen sighed, looking down at his now folded hands. "Is there anything that I can do right now to make this easier for you?"

I smiled. He really did have the biggest heart of anyone I had ever known. "No, there's not. But thank you, Wen. I'd really just like to talk about something else - act like this never happened?" Wen nodded, the twinkle in his eye meeting mine again. "We never actually worked on anything for the band, so we can do that." I remarked, reaching into my bag hanging off the back of the chair and producing the small notebook that I had been writing in earlier. This sparked Wen's interest and he stood up, sliding his bar stool closer to me and sitting back down. "I was thinking more of an upbeat rhythm, but you're the composer," I smiled, flipping open the book to a page with a complete page of lyrics scribbled down. "This is what I have in terms of lyrics."

Wen slid the book closer to him, eyes scanning the page, a furrow of concentration in his brow that slowly softened as a smirk appeared on his lips. "Dark Blue?" He questioned, gesturing to the title on the top of the page. I nodded and he responded the same way, pulling his phone out of his back pocket and opening up garage band to the keyboard widget. He laid his phone flat and started hitting a few keys with his fingers, looking back and forth from lyrics to keyboard. I heard the girl behind the counter call out for a mango smoothie and strawberry-banana smoothie and I got up quickly to grab our smoothies. As I got back to the table, I sat Wen's smoothie down in front of him but it didn't phase him - he was completely enveloped in the music. I took a sip of the pink drink in my hand and reached into my bag for my phone to check the time.

"Shit, Wen, we should get going." I grabbed his shoulder to snap him from his concentration. He looked up at me, "What?" He asked, "It's twenty-till. We gotta get going to Stella's." I told him again, grabbing my bag and slinging it over my shoulder, taking another sip of my smoothie. "There's your smoothie, by the way." Wen smiled and took a sip of his mango smoothie, standing and grabbing his phone and my notebook, handing it back to me.

"I think I have something that'll work to show everyone else when we get to Stella's, I can't wait for you to hear it." Wen remarked, holding open the door for me to walk through as we made our way to his car.

It was a fifteen minute drive to Stella's house that was filled with silence between Wen and I other than the radio. But the silence between us wasn't uncomfortable, it was familiar. Wen would glance over at me every other minute or so, trying to read my face or my body language but I didn't have much to say. My head was swimming. I kept telling myself that I was fine and that I was stronger than the bile I could still taste in the back of my throat no matter how often I took a sip of my smoothie. I was only fifteen when Thomas attacked me - I was immediately hospitalized for a week followed by a week of intensive inpatient therapy and mandatory six month outpatient therapy, then optional therapy, which I've kept up with every four to six weeks. I've healed physically from the attack, but mentally it's still a process. Even before I knew Thomas had been let out early, the thought of him ever being released absolutely terrified me and I hoped that by the time he did, I would be long gone - away at college somewhere where I wouldn't have to worry about him finding me. His threat to me that night was so real - 'if you tell anyone about this, I'll kill you'. He was so cold, so cruel, so unbelievably malicious. Those words kept echoing in my ears and the image of his eyes would never leave me. They were a strikingly bright blue, but that night they were the darkest blue I had ever seen. It threw me into a whirlwind how eyes that I had fallen for and encapsulated my heart could completely change in an instant. My throat tightened and tears burned my eyes and I quickly turned my head to face the window in case they fell. I couldn't stop the thoughts and images coursing through my head. His eyes, his words, the feeling of his weight crushing me, his hand around my throat and the sharpness of the pocket knife against my cheek, the shooting pain-

"Liv."

Wen's warm voice stopped the image in its tracks and I inhaled sharply as I felt his hand connect with my thigh. I turned my head to look at him, using the back of my hand to wipe away the wetness on my cheeks. His eyes were those of a wounded puppy, his lips turned down in a perpetual frown. He squeezed gently, the light pressure keeping me present in the car with him and out of my own traumatic headspace. I met his eyes and put my hand on top of his, squeezing with the same pressure and mumbled an apology in embarrassment. I never wanted to drag Wen into this - it was my problem, my trauma to handle. Wen cocked his head at me, moving his eyes back to the road for a moment - we were at a red light. He paused for a moment, studying my face. "Why on earth are you apologizing?"

I let out a sad chuckle that was caught in my breath and shook my head, "I have no idea." The light turned green and Wen's eyes left mine as the car turned to the left. I recognized the apartment complex in front of us and realized we were at Stella's place. I pulled down the mirror in front of me and scanned my reflection, wiping away any remnants that I had been crying and sighed within myself. I put the mirror back up as Wen parked the car, his hand leaving my thigh for only a moment, but I found myself missing the contact immediately. I took a final sip of my smoothie and turned to Wen. "I'm okay. I just got a little lost in my head. But I'm okay, I promise."

"You're stronger than I've ever thought possible, Olivia." Came his reply, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "If you need us to leave at all, I will in a heartbeat, okay? You just tell me what you need." It was my turn to smile at him, and I nodded in appreciation, afraid to open my mouth to speak as the familiar tightness found its way around my throat. I gripped my bag and opened the door, hearing Wen pull out his phone to tell Stella we had arrived.

Usually band practice was held at Charlie's house - he had an open garage that had room for all of us plus our instruments and we were able to make as much noise as we needed without being bothered or bothering anyone else. Stella's apartment was a much different atmosphere. It wasn't _her_ apartment, exactly, but her dad's. They had their house across town that she lived in with her mom, dad, and two brothers, but her dad had rented this apartment when his company moved him to Arizona before they could sell their house back in Rhode Island. He lived here for three months while the sale of their house became final while he searched for a new home in Arizona for the five of them. The lease was for an entire year and her dad was having a hard time finding a subletter, so sometimes Stella would stay in the apartment and her parents didn't seem to mind much. It was a small, one bedroom apartment that was blandly furnished, but it was enough space for Stella (and usually the band) to hang out in.

The hour that had passed since Wen and I got to Stella's consisted of me showing the group the lyrics that I had come up with and Wen playing around with different melodies on a keyboard that he had left at Stella's for low-key meetings like this. Stella pulled out her acoustic guitar about twenty minutes in and she and Wen argued back and forth over chord progressions and harmonies while I sat back with Mo and Charlie. The three of us knew not to get involved with their arguments as it always fell on deaf ears. Stella always had to get a word in edgewise but Wen countered every time with music theory (which Mo would defend when she could) and his "expertise". Sometimes it was comical to watch, and other times it was just draining. This time was the latter.

Twenty more minutes had elapsed before the pair finally stopped arguing and we put together a rough draft of the song, complete with Charlie slapping his thighs to a passable drum beat. It was in desperate need of bass and actual drums, but for what we had thrown together (and by we I mean Stella and Wen) within an hour wasn't the worst thing I had ever heard. It was always a surreal experience when the band got together. My whole life, my lyrics had just stayed as words on a page but I've finally found people to help me bring them to life in a way I never thought possible. The band all agreed that the song needed some more tweaking, but it was a good place to be in.

From his place on the sofa, Charlie stretched his arms over his head and yawned, looking expectantly at Stella. "You mind if we turn on a movie or something?" There was a collective variety of noises of approval from the rest of the band and Stella stood up from the floor, making her way over to the TV and que-ing up Netflix, tossing Charlie the remote.

"Hey, why does he get to pick?" Wen moped from behind the keyboard.

Mo laughed, "Oh, here we go."

"No, I'm serious! He always gets to pick the movie and all he cares about are sports documentaries. I just want to have a fair input for once!" Wen whined.

"Wen, no one wants to watch the stupid-funny movies you always suggest," came Charlie's reply. "I just put on whatever looks good and I've never gotten a complaint from the rest of the band."

"Well _I'M_ complaining!"

"Can't you boys just compromise?" Mo sighed exasperatedly, "No sports and no stupid comedy. Why don't we put on a horror movie?"

"That's gonna be a nope from me." my voice rang out. "You guys know I don't do scary movies, or scary in general."

"How about an action movie? I know there are some good ones on there, and I'm always down to watch a little rebellion." Stella suggested while scrolling through her phone.

"Of course you are," Wen replied. "We all know you're just a _total_ rebel, Stella."

"Yeah, your point?" Stella looked up from her phone to glare in Wen's direction.

"I'm just saying-" Wen stuttered over his words before slumping his shoulders in defeat. "Fine. I'm fine with an action movie. Is that good with everyone else?" Again, a collective variety of approving noises rang out from the group.

"You guys cool if I have a friend over? He just moved in down the hall with his uncle." Stella asked.

"Ooh, Stella's got a man friend?" Wen teased, standing from the keyboard bench to sit on the couch between Mo and I. I instinctively moved closer to the armrest to make room for Wen.

Stella rolled her eyes, "He's just a guy, our age, who's new to town and trying to make friends. Don't read so much into it." She shrugged.

"Is he cute?" Mo asked , leaning forward on her elbows to stare Stella down.

"You know I don't pay attention to that kind of shit," Stella quipped, but a hint of red tinted her cheeks as she spoke. "Do you guys care or not?"

Mo looked at me and smirked. "No, I don't care. The more the merrier."

Charlie's eyes flashed to Mo and he made a tight-lipped smile, "Yeah, sure, I'm down to meet the dude."

Wen nodded in agreement and all eyes turned to me as I had yet to speak.

"That's fine, Stella. I think we're all pretty chill on it. But I'm gonna go to the bathroom." I stood, making my way down the hallway to the bathroom and called over my shoulder, "seat check!" I heard Stella's groan of acknowledgement and I could almost picture the look of annoyance on her face, which made me smile.

I walked into the small bathroom and locked the door behind me, turning to face myself in the mirror, paralleled to just an hour or two earlier, I scanned my face. The redness had faded from my eyes, the puffiness dissipated from my cheeks, the tear tracks no longer visible. I appeared to be my usual self, and I was beginning to feel like normal. Being around the band helped immensely, in a way that I knew it would, but had my doubts about. I felt safe with the group, like we were an untouchable force to be reckoned with. They were my closest (okay let's be honest, my only) friends, and although I wasn't planning on telling them anything about what was going on, I felt in my bones that I could trust them with it. It's just the minute I completely open myself up about my trauma, it becomes that much more real. Part of me was still denying that Thomas was out of jail, and although the rational side of me knew that it was completely real and happening, I couldn't speak that into the world.

I heard the door to the apartment open and close, muffled voices filling the air. I knew I couldn't spend forever in the bathroom, so I turned from the mirror, did my thing, and washed my hands, taking one last look in the mirror, a half-smile on my face, knowing that I would be okay. I walked out of the bathroom and into the living room, hearing the opening credits of some action movie the group had finally settled on grow louder the closer I got. I turned to my right and took inventory of the faces in the room. Charlie was still on the far right side of the couch, Mo was seated next to him, followed by Wen and an empty space where I had been sitting. Stella had pulled out two chairs and there was a body in the chair farthest from the couch, their back to me. I assumed it was her friend. He had short, dark hair and he was tall. Before I could sit down at my place on the couch, Stella walked around the corner from the kitchen and smiled.

"Olivia! I want you to meet my friend, Tom." She gestured to the guy sitting in the chair. He turned his head to look at me and my knees nearly collapsed underneath me as my brown eyes met bright blue. A smile stretched across his lips that made my breath catch in my throat and I blinked hard, thinking that I was just imagining things. But when he stood up with an outstretched hand and said, "Hi, I'm Tom. It's so nice to meet you." I coughed hard and averted my gaze from his, immediately looking down at the floor and wrapping my arms around myself to become as small as possible. I mumbled a 'hi' and quickly sat down next to Wen, who cocked an eyebrow at me but I couldn't bring myself to make eye contact with him either. I could feel my hands begin to sweat and my knees trembled so I pulled them against my chest. My head flooded and bile rose in the back of my throat. I kept my eyes glued to the movie in front of me and prayed for the movie to end quickly, every thought of strength I had abandoning my mind. My worst fear had become a reality.

 _Thomas had found me._

 **I knew that I wanted to do this story more justice than what I delivered a decade ago when I started it, so I'm going down a slightly different road with the movement of the plot while still trying to hold onto some of the main ideas I had. It's a roller coaster, this one. As always, leave a review :)**


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